The panting of the two men echoed in the room and sheets ruffled. The warmth of the room would in normal cases not bother them, but there was something frustrated about the air and mood and they both fell to their backs on the bed.
It smelled like sex.
Musk and sweat and body fluids blended in with the aroma of the smaller man's cologne and if you had a really good sense of smell, you could probably smell gun oil and gun powder in there as well.
In the soft lights of the sunset glowing through the thin fabrics of the curtains, their bodies glowed and Jim Moriarty felt the frustration he had felt earlier just melt off of him, like wax melting down a candle. His frustration didn't even soak up the sheets; it just dripped down through the sheets, the bed, and down to the floor underneath. It could stay there.
Ready to lean to the side, away from the warmth beside him, he felt the soft touch of Sebastian Moran's hand on his own and he pulled up a leg, glancing at Sebastian and down at their hands. He was done here. They were done. His frustration was gone. He could go work now. He didn't need Sebastian—
The hand softly raised Jim's hand, and watching Sebastian, Jim saw how concentrated he was. As if he needed to say something. As if… There was something on his mind.
"Moran?" The nasal voice of the criminal filled the room and he heard the sharp intake of a breath as Sebastian opened his mouth to speak,
"Stay," It was low. Husky, like he hadn't spoken for a long time. But Jim knew for a fact that Sebastian had yelled quite loud and clear just five minutes earlier, so there was something else to it, and Sebastian didn't do anything about the hoarse voice he had.
"Don't just leave when we're done."
"Moran, you're being ridiculo—"
"No, I am not. Just… For a few minutes," Sebastian ran his thumb across the back of Jim's hand, and pressed it slightly, softly.
They stayed there for more than a few minutes. A few minutes became several minutes, an hour… Hours.
With a quick jerk of his leg, Jim realized he had fallen asleep next to Moran. He was still holding Jim's hand. And Jim blinked for a moment at the digital alarm clock next to his bed. Time didn't matter. It was just a standard procedure he did whenever he actually slept. All that mattered was that hand holding his, and with a quick movement, he laced their hands together and rolled over to put his other hand on Sebastian's chest, curled up a bit, and closed his eyes once more, and fell asleep.